


The Thrill Of It All

by red_starshine



Category: Constantine (TV), Hellblazer & Related Fandoms, Lupin III
Genre: Breaking and Entering, Crossover, Gen, Heist, Magical Artifacts, Truth Spells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2019-02-15 02:31:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13021383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_starshine/pseuds/red_starshine
Summary: How not to steal the Helmet of Fate from John Constantine, by Arsène Lupin III and Daisuke Jigen.





	The Thrill Of It All

**Author's Note:**

> This is the most self-indulgant fic I've written in a while, but knowing my brain I’ll come up with an even stranger idea for a crossover soon.
> 
> I’m playing pretty fast and loose with the Helmet of Fate – since I’m using TV continuity for it and not the comics, and the TV show didn’t really go into details on it other than 'this is a thing that exists and you probably shouldn't touch it', I don’t feel too bad about changing things around. 
> 
> Not set in a particular continuity for Lupin III, although the strongest influence is probably the first TV series.
> 
> Title is from Roxy Music's 'Country Life' album.

Daisuke Jigen had developed a foolproof system for predicting the outcomes of potential heists.

Was Fujiko involved in any way? Then it wasn’t going to work out. She’d stab them in the back and steal their loot.

Was it some kind of old artifact that was said to have incredible mystical powers? Definitely not going to work out.

When Lupin announced to him that he was planning a heist around an ancient Sumerian artifact, a brass helmet known as ‘The Helmet of Fate’ that legend said could grant its wearer magical powers, Jigen knew, without question, that this job was going to be a gigantic pain in the ass.

At least Lupin had sworn up and down that Fujiko wasn’t involved at all.

According to Lupin as their plane flew over the Atlantic, the Helmet of Fate had been discovered within the tomb of Nabu the Wise, deep inside the Valley of Ur in the 1930s. After one of the archeologists who found the Helmet had died almost immediately afterward, the Helmet had apparently passed through an unknown number of private collectors before winding up in an exhibit on ancient Mesopotamia at the British Museum. It was stolen from the Museum within a week of going on display.

Black market scuttlebutt was that after twenty years, the Helmet had finally resurfaced somewhere in Atlanta, Georgia.

Smuggling their respective handguns into Atlanta was easy – he’d done it often enough that Jigen could practically do it in his sleep. Their faked passports and disguises held up to scrutiny, and they breezed through customs without any issues. Their rental car, a bland black sedan that was at least ten years old, was waiting for them in the airport’s parking lot.

“Kind of a step down from the Mercedes,” said Jigen as Lupin tossed him the keys.

“Yup. Less fun, but a lot more discrete,” said Lupin. "And boring."

Lupin had gotten them a room at the swankiest hotel in Atlanta, much nicer than their usual digs. After dropping their luggage and work gear up at their room, they headed down to the hotel’s bar. The bar was surprisingly empty for a Friday night, with only a handful of patrons.

A woman in a leather jacket was sitting by herself on one of the bar’s red velvet sofas, her dark, curly hair pulled away from her face into a loose ponytail. She looked up as the two of them entered the bar.

“Lupin! Jigen!” she called, gesturing over to the sofa.

Lupin waved back at her, giving her a toothy smile.

Jigen glanced at Lupin in surprise. “You know her?”

Lupin grinned widely at Jigen. “Nope! But it’d be rude to just ignore the nice lady. Besides, she seems to know _us_.”

Jigen inwardly sighed, knowing there was very little he could do to steer Lupin away from a pretty face.

Lupin sat down next to the woman, one arm casually resting on the back of the sofa behind her. “Hey there.”

Jigen stood next to Lupin, leaning against the sofa’s arm. He pulled down slightly on the brim of his hat before pulling his cigarette case and lighter out of his jacket’s pocket. 

“My name’s Zed,” said the woman. She picked up her drink from the low table in front of the sofa and took a sip, not meeting Lupin's eyes. “Want to take it down a notch, Romeo?”

Clearly rebuffed, Lupin gave a slightly awkward smile and pulled away from Zed. “Sorry, that was a little too strong, wasn’t it? Well, it’s nice to meet you, Zed.” He held out his hand for her to shake, which she did after a moment’s hesitation.

“How did you know we’d be here, anyway?” said Jigen, lighting his cigarette.

Zed took another sip of her cocktail before answering. “I can see the future.”

“Bull,” said Jigen. “Were you tracking us? Are you a cop?” His hand unconsciously moved towards his holstered gun.

“Look, you want proof? Fine,” said Zed. She looked over at the bartender chatting to a man seated at the bar for a moment, and then said, her eyes still on him, “He’s going to drop a vodka bottle on the floor and break it in about five seconds.”

On cue, the bartender turned to the row of bottles behind him and picked up a bottle of vodka by the neck. It slipped through his fingers and loudly shattered on the floor.

Jigen’s mouth dropped open. He turned to stare at Lupin, who also looked flabbergasted.

“I know you’re after the Helmet of Fate,” said Zed, drawing their attention back to her.

Lupin was quiet for a moment. “Now that’s interesting. I didn’t even tell Jigen what we were after until right before we left France yesterday. I’m starting to think you really are psychic, Zed.”

“What if I told you two where you could find it?” said Zed.

“You know where the Helmet is?” said Lupin, grinning from ear to ear. “Well, I, for one, would be very interested to know where it’s been hiding all these years. How much do you want? I’ll give you a cut out of my share.”

“I don’t want a cut,” said Zed, looking slightly uncomfortable. “But I’ll give you the directions to where the Helmet is now.”

“That’d be very kind of you, Zed,” said Lupin, grabbing one of the hotel notepads from the table. “But if you do know where the Helmet it, why don’t you take it for yourself? Why let me and my friend here take it? ”

“I really don’t want to steal it.” She fixed Lupin with a piercing stare, one that made Jigen glad he wasn’t on the receiving end of it. “You shouldn’t steal it either. But there really isn’t anything _I_ can say to stop you, so...”

“Did your incredible psychic power of precognition tell you that too?” said Jigen as Lupin passed her one of the hotel’s pens.

“No, I follow the news. Once Lupin III has his eye on something, he won’t stop until he takes it.” She bent over the table to write out the directions. She stood up, grabbed her purse and handed Lupin back the notepad. “There you go. It’s at what used to be the Winters Mill over a hundred years ago. Someone still lives in the mill house, but they’re gone during the day.”

“Is that right,” said Lupin, his eyes quickly reading the directions. He passed them to Jigen. From his limited knowledge of Atlanta’s roads, they seemed to check out. He gave Lupin a surreptitious nod.

“Well, pleasure doing business with you, Zed. Maybe I’ll see you around town later?” said Lupin hopefully.

Zed smirked at him and left the bar without another word.

“What a crock,” muttered Jigen once Zed was out of earshot.

“It does seem a little too easy, right?” said Lupin. “A pretty girl just so happens to know what we’re looking for and where it is and drops it into our laps without wanting anything in return.”

“You think her intel’s any good?” said Jigen, holding up the directions Zed had given them. “I mean, no offense, but this has ‘TRAP’ written all over it.”

“Ah, ah ah! I wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss it,” said Lupin. “It’s a start, even if it does turn out to be a setup.”

 

* * *

 

 Jigen sighed as he and Lupin trudged towards Winters Mill. Like Zed had said, the mill was at the end of a series of increasingly twisted and overgrown backroads that meant no one would spot them. The trees had also given them enough cover to hide their car and stake out the mill without the owner noticing their presence before driving off in his yellow cab. (Did they even have yellow taxi cabs in Atlanta? Jigen had always assumed those were a New York City thing.)

The stone mill itself looked like it had been abandoned decades ago. The large mill wheel creaked loudly in the clearing, the steam running past the mill house turning the wheel very slowly.

Lupin inspected the padlock holding the wooden door to the mill shut. The door itself seemed to be made out of aged wood, dotted with several decades worth of carved names and years. He removed his lock-pick set and began to delicately feel for the tumblers inside while Jigen kept watch.

The lock popped open less than a minute later. “There. Easy-peasy,” said Lupin with a grin, holding the door open for Jigen.

Jigen pulled his revolver free from its holster. Behind him, Lupin put the lock-picks back in his jacket’s inner pocket and removed a small flashlight. He shone the light over the top of Jigen’s hat, aiming it inside the Winters Mill.

Jigen stepped inside, listening to the wooden beams beneath his feet creak. From what he could see with Lupin’s flashlight, the mill looked just as decrepit inside as it did outside. The darkened hallway was covered in dust and cobwebs. Judging by the light-switches on the stone wall next to the door, and the iron chandeliers fitted with ancient lightbulbs, the mill had been wired for electricity at some point. It was odd there weren’t any power lines outside leading into the mill, but it probably had a generator tucked away somewhere.

“The Helmet of Fate is supposed to be in there?” said Jigen quietly. The air inside the mill was cold and faintly musty. It made him think of a tomb.

“Yup!,” said Lupin, sounding giddy. He followed Jigen inside the mill, leaving the door open. He shone the flashlight over the wooden railing to the mill’s large main room below them. 

The lights inside the mill suddenly flickered on with an audible electric hum. At the same time, the door slammed shut.

Jigen raised his revolver out of habit, even though he had nothing to shoot at. Lupin spun around and glanced at the door.

“Lupin, this is starting to feel like we wandered into a bad horror movie,” said Jigen, slowly lowering his gun. The sense of trepidation he’d felt since Zed had told them where to find the Helmet only grew stronger.

“I had no idea you were so easy to scare,” said Lupin with a laugh, turning off the flashlight. “Come on, it’s just a little wind and some bad wiring. Now, let’s find that Helmet!”

Jigen snorted, tugging down the brim of his hat. He took a step forward, towards the spiral staircase leading down to the main room, but his feet suddenly weren’t touching the floor. It felt like he’d been launched over the railing and up into the air, but the floor was now above him and the ceiling was below. He yelled as he was roughly spun around in the air, flailing his arms and legs One hand clamped down on his hat to keep it from flying away. Somewhere below him, he heard Lupin shout his name, but couldn’t pinpoint exactly where Lupin was.

“Jigen! Jigen, stop moving,” said Lupin. “That’s just making it worse.”

His instincts were still insisting that he was falling, that there was nothing supporting him, but Jigen tried his best to stop thrashing around. The spinning gradually came to a stop and he found himself staring down at an astonished Lupin several feet below him.

He was floating in mid-air about fifteen feet above the floor of the main room. It was like gravity had arbitrarily decided to stop affecting him and him alone.

Jigen sighed and holstered his gun, which thankfully didn’t send him tumbling around again. “What kinda trap did I get caught in?”

Looking thoughtful, Lupin pulled a quarter out of his pocket and flicked it towards the spot Jigen had been standing in front of the staircase. The quarter arced through the air and landed on the wooden floor. A moment later, the quarter floated up and over the railing until it was hovering in front of Jigen’s face. Jigen grabbed it and attempted to throw it back to Lupin, only for the quarter to hang suspended in the air over Lupin’s head as soon as it left his hand.

“Yeah, I’m going to be honest, I really don’t know,” said Lupin, craning his neck to look up at the quarter. “You okay, Jigen?”

“Me? Oh, I’m great. Any bright ideas for getting me down?”

“I’ll think of something. I always do, right?” Lupin glanced over the railing, down at the room below and then up at Jigen. Lupin’s face brightened. Before Jigen could ask what his plan was, Lupin leapt over the railing to the nearest iron chandelier.

Jigen stared at Lupin, swinging from the creaking chandelier, grinning like a madman. Jigen fully expected the chandelier to plummet from the ceiling with Lupin on it, but it seemed to hold him. Standing on the chandelier, Lupin was about level with Jigen. Hooking his foot through one of the rings dangling from the chandelier, Lupin grabbed the chain suspending it from the ceiling with one hand and held the other out towards Jigen.

Jigen lunged for Lupin, trying to grab his hand.

The chandelier Lupin was on suddenly spun around like it was a bucking bronco, sending Lupin tumbling down towards the floor of the main room with a yelp. Lupin landed on one of the ratty old sofas in front of the mill's fireplace, sending up a cloud of dust.

“Lupin!” Jigen called down. He struggled against whatever force was keeping him suspended in mid-air, setting him whirling around again. By some miracle, his hat managed to stay on his head.

Lupin groaned and sat up, looking slightly dazed. “I’m fine! I’m fine! Just a bumpy landing.” Sliding off the sofa, he took a few wobbly steps, looking up at the chandelier and Jigen.

“I’m starting to think this heist was a bad idea,” said Jigen, attempting to steady himself again. They had stumbled into something far, far outside their area of expertise. His stomach lurched unpleasantly, not happy with the spinning. Thank God he’d had a light breakfast.

Lupin scrunched up his face but said nothing. He glanced around the room at the row of bookshelves and the mirror hanging over the fireplace. Lupin grinned again and pointed towards one of the shelves. “Hey look, there’s the Helmet.”

The Helmet of Fate was inside a wooden display box, sitting on one of the bookshelves between an iron gyroscope and a long sword with a golden hilt. The box itself was covered in cobwebs and dust, but the helmet inside was gleaming brass untouched by the grime coating its box.

Looking at the Helmet of Fate, Jigen couldn’t help but feel a little underwhelmed. That was it? That was what they’d flown from Europe for? That was what they’d come to this goddamn mill to steal in a heist that was rapidly going off the rails?

“Careful, Lupin,” said Jigen. “The rate we’re going, that box is gonna be full of poisonous snakes or something.”

The man who answered him wasn’t Lupin.

“Now that’s not a bad idea,” said a man’s voice with a chuckle. The accent was from England, although Jigen couldn’t pin down exactly what region. “I’ll have to remember that one, after this is all over.”

Jigen had his gun out and trained at the man who’d stepped out from a darkened hallway at the back of the room before he’d taken two steps. The man’s tousled hair was blond, and he wore a rumpled tan trench-coat over a white dress shirt and black slacks.

Jigen’s first thought was that this was a very strange and overly complicated sting operation to catch them, but it was apparent after a few moments of observation that the blond man was not a cop, despite his clothes. The way he moved reminded him of Lupin and numerous other con-men he’d encountered over the years.

Lupin’s smirk could only mean that he had also recognized the other man was in a similar line of work to theirs.

The blond man glanced up at Jigen aiming his gun at him and grimaced, looking annoyed rather than intimidated. “Oi, mate, do us all a favor and point that thing somewhere else. You’re not going to be able to fire it without hurting yourself. Zero gravity and firearms don’t mix well together.”

“Lupin?” said Jigen, keeping the gun trained on the man’s head.

Lupin nodded, keeping his eyes on the blond man. “Do what he says.”

Jigen frowned and lowered his revolver, taking his finger off the trigger and pointing it at the ground. From his position, there wasn’t much he could do if things suddenly went south.

Went south further than they already had, he amended. And the blond man was right, the recoil from firing a gun would probably slam him into the ceiling. God only knew where the bullet would end up once it left the barrel of the revolver.

“So, you’re the real owner of this place, huh?” said Lupin. He held out a hand towards the blond man. “Nice to meet you! I’m Arsène Lupin III.”

The blond man glanced down at Lupin’s hand but made no move to shake it. He smirked slightly. “Yes, I know who you are.” He pointedly stuck his hands in the pockets of his trench-coat. “A little bird had a premonition and told me you two were looking to make off with the Helmet of Fate.”

“Would that little bird’s name happen to be Zed?” said Lupin with a wide, insincere grin, mirroring the other man’s gesture by placing his own hands in the pockets of his suit jacket. “And let me guess, she’s one of your crew?”

The blond man’s smirk grew wider, but he said nothing. Jigen correctly interpreted that as a ‘yes’.

“And who might you be?” said Lupin.

“The name’s John Constantine.” John pulled a carton of Silk Cuts and a brass lighter from his pocket, tapping out a cigarette. “I'm assuming your friend up there with the itchy trigger finger is Daisuke Jigen,” he said as he lit the cigarette.

“Hello,” said Jigen. He tilted the brim of his hat up with his free hand.

“Could you let Jigen down from...whatever it is that’s caught him?” said Lupin pleasantly.

John gave him an amused look. “Why?”

“Call it professional courtesy,” said Lupin, slightly less pleasantly.

John’s eyes flicked up to Jigen and his revolver. “Put the gun away first, mate,” he said to Jigen. “I can do without the hole in my head, thank you.”

If John had done any research on them, he knew exactly how fast Jigen could draw his gun from its holster. That John was allowing Jigen to keep his gun instead of demanding Jigen hand it over was a surprising show of benevolence towards the two thieves.

Then again, if he’d wanted to, Lupin could probably have John out cold and hogtied in under a minute while he and Jigen made off with the Helmet, something John was probably also aware of.

Jigen holstered the revolver and then showed John his empty hands. He expected John to pull out a remote or flip a switch to turn off whatever machine was keeping him in the air, but John only made a quick slicing motion with one hand. “ _Descendit_.”

Instead of falling, Jigen slowly drifted down to the floor of the main room. When his feet finally touched solid ground again and he was standing next to Lupin, Jigen let out a breath of relief. “That’s one hell of a security system you’ve got here,” he said.

John gave him a humorless grin. “Be glad you two didn’t spring any of the mill house's nastier traps. Some of those aren’t as easy to free someone from.”

There was a moment of awkward silence between the three of them. “Anyway, it’s been nice talking to you, but we’ll just nab that nifty Helmet of Fate and be on our way,” said Lupin, stepping towards the bookcase with the Helmet’s case.

John scoffed, which froze Lupin in his tracks. “Much as I’d like to never see the bloody thing again, I can’t let you take it.”

Lupin quirked an eyebrow at John. “Oh? Why’s that?”

“Because here’s the safest place for it,” said John, slouching against a wooden post. “The Helmet’s dangerous in the wrong hands – hell, even in the right ones.”

Jigen snorted, which elicited a soul-withering stare from John. “Wait, you actually believe all that oogie-boogie crap?” said Jigen.

John let out a bitter bark of a laugh acidic enough to peel paint. “Oh, mate. I’m practically up to my bumhole in ‘oogie-boogie crap’. What did you think the zero gravity trap was?”

“A parlor trick,” said Lupin. “I’ve heard of you too, y’know. I’m sure you could rig up a nice illusion to freak out any intruders. After all, John Constantine’s supposed to be a great magician, right?”

John chuckled, stubbing out his cigarette with his shoe. “I’m not exactly Vegas material, squire. These are more my speed,” He pulled out a business card from the pocket of his trench-coat and handed it to Lupin.

“’John Constantine: Exorcist, Demonologist and Master of the Dark Arts’,” Lupin read out loud. He gave John an unimpressed look, stuffing the card into his pocket. “That’s your angle? You run a paranormal investigator scam?”

“I happen to have many angles,” said John with a smirk. “But those are on the level. Let me show you.” He walked to the bookshelf with the Helmet’s display box and picked up the large sword lying next to it.

Jigen’s hand drifted back towards his gun.

“Oh, keep your trousers on, mate. If I wanted a fight, you’d know it by now,” said John, his back still to Jigen. He came back over to them, holding the sword in front of him with the tip pointing towards the floor. He held out the pommel of the sword to Lupin. “Here, take a look at this.”

Lupin took the sword from John and carefully examined the ornate scrollwork on the sword’s hilt. “That’s very nice. Condition looks great too. How old is it?”

“Dates back to the Late Middle Ages, best as I can figure,” said John. “So Lupin, who was it that told you the Helmet of Fate was in Atlanta?”

“Why would I tell you it was Fujiko Mine?” said Lupin. His eyes widened as he realized what he’d said out loud. “She’d said one of her friends, one that specializes in antiquities, told her about it and was willing to pay a lot for it,” he continued, a growing look of horror on his face, like he couldn’t stop himself from talking. "And she said that she'd be really grateful too."

Jigen stared at Lupin, whose face was now beet red. “Yesterday you said she wasn’t involved with this.”

“I know what I told you before! I lied and I feel really bad about it!” shouted Lupin in full blown panic. But he still kept talking, the words spilling out of his mouth faster and faster. “But you don’t trust her at all, so I wanted to keep her out of this until after we got back to Europe and sold the Helmet. I thought that once we had the mon--”

It was the sword, Jigen realized with a jolt. The sword was somehow forcing him to tell the truth.

Jigen grabbed the sword from Lupin. The hilt felt unusually warm.

As soon as the sword was out of his hands, Lupin’s jaw clenched shut. A moment later he let out a loud wheeze.

"Still think all I can do are parlor tricks?" said John, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He sounded almost unbearably smug.

Jigen didn’t even attempt to fight against the compulsion to answer John. It obviously hadn't worked for Lupin and he'd always been the better liar between the two of them. "No," he said. “No, I think you’ve proven your point.”

“What...what the hell was that,” Lupin croaked, his face still red.

John took the sword back from Jigen. “This is the Sword of Night. Makes its wielder tell the truth. Not much fun, is it?” He placed the sword on the shelf next to the Helmet’s box and removed a long wooden gun case from a higher shelf. “The Helmet of Fate’s even worse.”

“How, exactly?” said Jigen. “That was pretty damn bad.”

"The Helmet’s possessed by the spirit of the Mesopotamian god of wisdom, Nabu. If you think being unable to lie is a rotten trick, try having an ancient deity that’s not even close to human invade your mind and take control of your body away from you.”

“Well, that sounds awful. I thought that thing was supposed to be good magic,” muttered Lupin after a moment, sounding sullen.

“Oh, it is. Nabu can do all sorts of fantastic things while he’s wearing someone,” said John. “But that’s the trade-off. Actually, Nabu’s probably one of the more benevolent beings someone could be possessed by, but the cost is still much too high.”

Lupin glanced back at the Helmet’s box with a forlorn expression on his face.

“Believe me when I say that whatever Fujiko and her buyer are promising you in exchange for the Helmet, it’s not nearly enough,” John added.

Lupin pouted and hunched his shoulders. “It's not fair.”

“Cheer up, squire. As long as the Helmet stays with me, you and your partner aren’t going to leave here entirely empty-handed,” said John. He hefted up the wooden gun case and presented it to Jigen. A large pentagram had been carved into the center of the case's lid.

"Is that a gift or a bribe?" said Jigen, eyeing the case.

"I see no reason it can't be both," said John.

Lupin caught Jigen’s hand before he could touch the box. “Whatever’s in that box isn’t going to turn us into toads, or anything like that, right?” he said to John.

“No,” said John with a smirk. His expression softened slightly as he turned back towards Jigen. “Here, open it.”

“It’s all right,” said Jigen to Lupin. “I think I know what it is.”

“You do?” said Lupin. 

Instead of answering him, Jigen unlatched the clasp holding the case shut and lifted the lid.

Resting on a bed of worn red velvet inside the case was an old-fashioned rifle. Jigen’s eyes immediately went to the metal pentagram above the trigger and the strange runes that had been carefully carved into the wooden stock and forend.

“It's the Ace of Winchester,” said Jigen quietly, lifting the rifle from the case.

John let out a delighted laugh. “Mate, I knew you’d like it. Fair warning though, I stole it off a voodoo king with a nasty temper, so don’t flash it around too much if you can help it.”

Lupin looked utterly lost. “That's just an antique rifle. Why’s it so special?”

“The Ace of Winchester’s supposed to be capable of killing anything you aim it at, even demons and angels,” said Jigen. “I thought it was just an old west legend, but that’s the real thing, isn’t it?”

John nodded as Jigen placed the rifle back in the case and shut the lid. “In this line of work, odds are that you’ll come across something an ordinary gun won’t kill sooner rather than later.”

“So, if you’re handing out goodies, what do I get?” said Lupin with a cheeky grin.

John smirked, darkly amused. “Already gave you yours, mate.”

Lupin stared at John for a moment. His eyes widened in sudden realization, and he reached into his pocket. “Wait. You can’t mean...” He pulled out John’s business card. “Really? You give Jigen a mythical insta-demon-killing shotgun and all I get is your dumb business card?”

“That’s it,” said John. He pointed towards the phone number printed underneath his name. "What I'm offering you is my occult knowledge and expertise. There are lots of magic trinkets and artifacts floating around that are valuable, powerful and dangerous if you don't know what you're doing. If you think something you're after might be magic, all you have to do is call me and I'll tell you what I know. And maybe one day I'll need to hire you and your gang to grab something for me. Could be a beneficial arraignment."

 

* * *

 

"Well, that could've gone better," said Lupin, pulling out his cell phone. He and Jigen had left the mill house and were trudging down the path to where they'd hidden their rental car.

Jigen shrugged, carrying the Ace of Winchester's box underneath one arm. "We both got something out of it, even if it wasn't the Helmet."

"Yeah, but yours is a lot more fun. Think he must like you better," muttered Lupin, typing John's phone number into his phone. Jigen glanced over and snorted when he saw that Lupin had labeled it with ' **MAGICAL**   **BLOND BRITISH JERKASS** '.

After Lupin had put his phone away, he began to chuckle. A few moments later, he was nearly doubled over in laughter.

"What?" said Jigen.

Lupin continued to laugh, placing a hand over his eyes. The other went into the pocket of his pants. He held up John's brass cigarette lighter between his thumb and forefinger. Like the Ace of Winchester, the lighter was covered in sigils. "I'm just picturing the look on John's face when he realizes I swiped this from him," he cackled. 

**Author's Note:**

> ...I kinda want to write a fic where Jigen gets a chance to use the Ace of Winchester against something supernatural now.
> 
> I waffled on how to refer to the Ace of Winchester in this fic. In the comics it's the Ace of Winchesters, plural, but for some reason when Papa Midnite says its name in the TV series, he very clearly calls it the Ace of Winchester, singular. In the end I went with the TV spelling.


End file.
